Star and the Stars
by XToxicX
Summary: Ford suspected his travels would be grim and life-threatening. He underestimated the universe when it threw the reckless nature of Star Butterfly on his list of responsibilities. It would be an easy task to return her home, if she hadn't the curious case of amnesia. The task turns into a journey neither will forget. Now if she could just stop calling him 'Dad'...


Stumbling through the barren wasteland was a man clad in black, his padded attire drifting in the breeze and the cloth around his neck trailing behind him. The sandstorm picked up, clashing against his goggles which he readjusted with mass effort. The sand was hard, hitting him consecutively, but fortunately he was prepared for that very weather, long-since prepared for the hardships he had to press through.

His sights set on a large rock, an alcove of sorts, in the distance, corroded but nonetheless a clear shelter from the storm of stabbing. Strengthening his resolve, he forced his tired body through the onslaught of particles, determined to reach the place of safety. As he treaded through this desolate place, however, he noticed something out of the ordinary, or tragically, something very ordinary.

It was not uncommon to see typical creatures traverse the treacherous paths that he had crossed, nor was it uncommon to see the way they easily became susceptible to the planet's elements or dangers. As he looked to his right, he could see a figure, just barely, unconscious in the sand and unmoving. Glancing between that and the rock, he contemplated, then shook his head. It was sheer indecency that he would consider such an option.

The wind almost threw him off balance for the duration he had stood there, and he decided, quickly, that he would rather not end up sustaining the results of that.

Turning right, the man used all the effort he could to make his way towards the still being in the sand, boots pushing through the unforgiving sand. Throughout this perilous journey, he had to maintain his composure, his ethic, else the sand would swallow him whole and he would be well and truly stuck. He would maintain that composure regardless of what this storm threw at him.

However, this mental declaration was made too soon, as when he had finally reached the now-apparent human being, the ground rumbled subtly. This stopped his actions, and he looked around, senses on red alert. There was a species here that could significantly obstruct his actions considering it could devour him in just a few seconds.

A hand instinctively slipping into his inner coat pocket, he turned heel, looking to the obscure horizon around him. His gaze was scrutinising, examining the area and trying to decide whether or not it was safe. The shaking ground beneath him rectified any such belief, preventing him in pulling out a source of defence, and he dived, rolling across the sand as a worm-like creature bearing mouldy scales and many closed eyes reared its ugly head from the sand, glaring down at its supposed meal.

Fortunately the scarf around his mouth prevented any unwanted taste in his mouth and he pulled himself to his feet, eyes moving to meet the monster through dusty lens. At his movement, the creature snapped, and the man barely dodged as sharp pincers failed to penetrate his neck. It was then he realized that due to the obvious visual impairment of the creature it relied on hearing and sensing the movement of its enemies. However, he dreaded how accurate those senses were, for the slightest exhale of his own breath could potentially doom him.

His questionable gaze moved instantly to the unconscious being on the ground, ever still and seeming likely dead as a result. After all of this time, he could not look at the world through lens of a rosy hue; his hardships had only ensured certain pessimism, but despite such, something moved him to cling to the hope that this stranger would live, as he would.

Shock ensnared him as the abomination turned and surged out of the sand, but not because it was deciding to devour him. No - something else entirely, someone else entirely, for the figure he had fretted over had for the first time moved, giving a groan of pain. He could faintly see a golden yellow tussling with the sand, messy and full of impurities from the environment. Yet despite this movement, they did not seem aware enough to combat the enemy heading directly for them. This supposed comatose did not allow them that privilege.

Registering these details so quickly, he acted on instinct - his hand shot to his inner pocket, he withdraw a weapon clad in black, and aimed directly at his target, firing instantly. A ray of light rushed through the air, but it came too late. The ray did not connect. He felt a strong feeling of fear and remorse that he hadn't reacted fast enough, hadn't saved a supposed innocent. No damage was made to the creature and as a result nothing would stop it.

He watched on in horror, his mind having already settled on what the scene would look like. Every vivid detail of it, he imagined...

But despite all odds, his theory was proven wrong - in some weird way, this person had defied his expectations, defied his hypothesis with something almost nonsensical. What he witnessed was not the action of a mere mortal, but that of a supernatural, something he as a human being could not find himself to fathom. He still wasn't sure he had understood what had occurred, but he was certain this person was beyond helpless.

As the worm had dived, made a move to feast on the figure's flesh, it collided with a bright light. There was a hue of colour, of hope, surrounding the figure - something that absolutely baffled him. The atrocity that had attempted to do ill will towards the travellers sunk into the wall of light like it was comfy fabric. It portrayed a face of confusion, of shock, and almost fear, the very same feelings that he felt at this moment. And before he could fully register what had happened, this multi-coloured bubble rejected the pressure applied to it, and the worm was sent flying, off into the distance, whimpering. He doubted it would come back.

The traveller of the multi-verse stared at the figure, open-mouthed, his weapon almost slipping from his grip. After a few moments, he found himself and pocketed the weapon, running over and kneeling with his back against the sandstorm. The bubble was still apparent, and he poked at it curiously but hesitantly. The material was bouncy, almost like a trampoline, but the delay seemed to depend on the weight put upon it. It glowed like a night light, bright like the stars in the sky, luminous and colourful. This luminosity was soon fading from his perception, and he glanced at the person's face, the source of this indirect power.

It was a child. The body structure dictated that enough - if they were both to stand, he would tower over them like a looming skyscraper. They had long, blonde hair, held together by a red, devil-horned headband, although the horned aspects had been noticeably broken. Big round eyes with eyelashes, put together with the rest of their appearance being a murky dress, slung bag, and strange fashion choice of boots... It had to be a girl. A child. Out here, all alone, unknowing to the dangers around her.

A key detail he had noticed was the evident markings on her cheeks, which seemed to be root of the sorcery that had just transpired. The rainbow hue was fading, replaced by a dull, lifeless pink. At this, he looked towards her closed eyes, clinging to the hope there would be further signs of life. He saw no movement until her chest sunk in and then rose out, signifying her light.

He sighed under his breath, with relief, at this indication. It seemed his pessimism had been incorrect this time around, and for that, he was thankful. Readjusting his goggles, he glanced back at the small alcove through the rushes of sand, then down at the child in front of him. He scanned his surroundings briefly, pulling himself to his feet, before bending down and picking up the child. Carrying human beings was not a common happening for him, but he managed the weight thrust onto him on top of everything else.

What kind of humanity would he retain by ditching this child? It was unspoken of. She was clearly a lost soul, perhaps not even aware of it, and a person to leave her in this element would never be forgiven for it. Thus, he pressed through the storm, his body leaning in attempt to shield the child from the oncoming assault of dirty yellow particles. She seemed not to stir, seeming far too intent on sleep, willingly or not. The man couldn't judge; sleep was a luxury in his life, one he would not rob from an adolescent. She looked exhausted.

Through a quick observation of her being, he could tell she had been in a fight, perhaps lost. But just how long had she been here? Hopefully not too long, otherwise he would have a clear issue on his hands... His hope rekindled, the hope that would not happen, and he pressed on, heading towards the safe alcove ahead.

Settling the child against the rock, he glanced inside the cavern, weapon out once again and aimed at its depths, checking for any unwanted neighbours. After finding none, he nodded to himself in assertion and picked up the supposed teenager once again, pulling her into the small denture of the rock and placing her inside. He was careful throughout not to cause further damage to her, and when he had finished his task, he sighed, sitting down across from her.

He peered out towards the barren desert, gaze the personification of a drooping flower. His usually stern expression had crumbled, heart hurting at the concept that had he not tread this way, this child would be lost in the sand, not even for weeks, but eternity. It mattered not whether she was able to protect herself - most beings required sustenance, and could not find it on such dry terrain. He considered that dwindled in his mind was because she had the same structure as any other human being. She could die of thirst, die of hunger, even if the desert and all its dangerous creatures didn't devour her.

Leaning against the aged rock, he glanced back at her, a faint smile falling on his beaten expression. It was better not to dwell on such things when he had brought the more positive outcome; this child was no longer alone, and that fact he cherished. One may think she wasn't alone, staring at her peaceful features. Despite all the turmoil she had been through, she was seemingly ignorant to it. It reminded him of someone, but it internally struck him to think of that person.

Shuffling forward a little, the traveller pulled something from his back, a weapon of some sort. It wasn't complete, but it was well on its way to being so. And yet that goal felt something akin to miles away despite being so close. He was nearing the pinnacle of his destiny, or so he believed, where he would finally defeat the unruly Bill Cipher. His six-fingered hands clutched the weapon firmly as he looked down at it grimly, giving it a contemplating gaze before putting it back. He supposed it was time to rest, now.

It would hardly help to sit there in silence, feeling the urge to wake up this stranger, when they could be in desperate need of sleep, and he was in dire need of it himself. His eyes were worn from the late nights he had spent travelling across multiple dimensions, each more treacherous and even sometimes downright silly than the last. Perhaps that was bane from the days he had spent trying to keep that blasted demon at bay from his body... or the seething nightmares he suffered... he wasn't quite sure...

Sleep was a luxury that he missed, and it was a luxury he would receive. He finally gave in, finally let his eyelids fall and succumb to sleep. His muscles were no longer tense and he breathed a small sigh of relief as the darkness took him. If the nightmares came, he would have to fight them - but sleep was a necessity. He wouldn't live without it again, and he couldn't constantly pinch himself, have someone else pinch him, or put peppers in his eyes. Those were pointless instructions so he would just have to combat his fear.

Ironically, that night, he had never slept better. The vast space of his dreams were usually dark and obscure, or fraught with monsters of all shapes and sizes, that yellow triangle being the prime antagonist, but this one... this one was significantly different to the rest. He dreamt of a beach, a nostalgic place that he cherished in his childhood. The waves were lapping gently against the warm sand and the sky was bright, a comforting colour for the two children playing below.

He was one of the two children, settled on the seat of a swing and looking out to the beautiful horizon. He felt the breeze rushing through his hair softly as he swung to and fro, a smile on his face. Then, his face turned to the other, and there he saw his brother, grinning at him like the idiot he was and swinging much more recklessly than himself. The area lit with happiness, as did their faces, and they laughed until that beautiful dream slipped from his grip...

Stanford Pines awoke from that surreal experience, finding it incredibly hard to believe that was once him; finding it hard to believe that things had been so peaceful and quiet... finding it hard to believe how much his relationship with his brother had faded. He glanced around the alcove and felt his heart twist and wrench; the child was absent, gone, and the sun had risen. He should've woken earlier, and so, he cursed himself for ever having such a pleasant dream for the first time in decades - for having a dream that reminded him what he had lost. He feared the child being inexperienced and as a result fret for her well-being.

Briskly pulling himself to his feet, he waded through the sand towards the outside world, glancing around with worry fixed on his expression. He was half tempted to call out, but reconsidered the impending consequences of impersonating a cliché movie character. Instead, he decided to observe - a careful action that shouldn't warrant too much sanctioning. Of course, there wasn't much to analyse... it was a wide world of sand, after all. Nothing but sand.

That concept alone made him feel hopeless until his eyes moved to something in the sand. Something was drawn, something that looked like the human heart. He knew it wasn't a regular one - it looked nothing like the organ - it was a childish portrayal of it, clearly. Upon further examination, however, he realized it represented an emotion he had felt many times in his life. This heart, in all its cartoon glory, had shattered in two. He felt it strange, but he felt his feelings resonated with it. Heartbreak clung to all those times he had felt betrayal... he'd felt it too much.

Removing himself from his stupor once more, he realized that this drawing was recent - the wind had not blown it away so the child could not be far. At this, his courage built once more and he looked around with a faint smile on his face. Unfortunately, his keen eyes could not have foreseen the surprise he was about to witness.

"HIIIIIIiiiiiiIIIIII~!" a voice squealed behind him childishly, causing him to whip around instantly.

He was suddenly on defence, already reaching for his weapon before he saw the wide grin of the child that had been dormant possibly the whole night. Clutching his beating heart, he gave a sigh of relief, trying to calm himself. This girl had almost inadvertently gave him a heart attack...

"S-someone is definitely awake," he stated with a slight expression of amusement, looking down at her.

"Yup! But you weren't! You were fast asleep," the girl responded chipperly, looking at him with an awe a person would regard with a cute animal. "But you looked so peaceful and happy! Like a little laser puppy all cuddly and asleep! I couldn't possibly rise and shine that kinda cuteness!"

Did... did this child just compare him to a dog? A _dog_?

Shaking his head at that thought, he couldn't help but be baffled by her peppy personality - he wasn't sure why. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting the aura of her to be, but he'd not had any guesses it would be a happy one. The matter of being left in a world void of life was terrifying enough to ruin a person's perception of the world... He wondered if she was alright...

"...I-I see... And... Who might you be?" he regained himself, looking at her in inquiry. He wanted to hear the name of this chirpy individual, and he was half-expecting a chipper name to go with her characterisation.

But his response was saddening, mortifying almost. The girl stared right through him, expression blank and robbed of the joy she had previously been displaying. Her stance drooped and she looked down in confusion - the situation was heart-breaking to look at, and Ford did not immediately connect the dots.

"Hello...?" he tried to attract her attention again, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Her hands fidgeted in response, and she moved to hug herself with one eye, looking up with big, tearful eyes.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't... know..."

"What?"

He stared at her incredulously, wondering if this were some sort of joke. She didn't know who she-she didn't know who she was? How? How could -

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked, expression growing serious by the second.

She shook her head guiltily, somehow feeling at fault for not being able to recall a simple detail.

"N-no..."

Ford considered the possibilities. She DID look like she had been in a brawl last night, and unconscious, so it wasn't out of the question to contemplate that perhaps she'd been hit in the head, knocked out cold... That was the only explanation he could muster that wasn't his assistant's invention from another dimension, and it would have to do.

"I understand," he replied grimly, face that of sympathy and pity. "I'm not mad, so don't apologize. I'm sure it isn't your fault, either."

She blinked and then stared with a plain expression, eyes wide in shock but nonetheless grateful. She smiled again - and somehow that smile filled the man with as much happiness as the owner.

"You're pretty cool, mister!" she chirped, clearly in a much more joyous mood.

Hand moving to his scarf, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly at the improvised title.

"Ford. Stanford Pines."

"Stanford Pines, huh?" she asked, staring at him for a moment. Then her eyes lit up with excitement and she jumped up and down as if she were on sugar. "OOH! OOH! OOH! Are you the leader of the tree nation or something?! Do you slap people with tree branches and send them flllllllllyyyyyyyy-ING?"

What even was this girl?

Ford couldn't help but wonder that as he smiled a little at the other's musings, entertained by the entire notion. Him, a leader? Well, he supposed there was that one time he became the leader of the finger dimension, before that guy with seven fingers walked in...

"No, no, no," he made sure to answer, not being able to stop his smile. "It's just a name. A name floating around here a lot now."

"Hehe, I'm kinda late getting with the times, sooooooooo..." the younger one trailed off as she twiddled her fingers, grinning at him sheepishly. She then asserted a new expression, one of determination. "Stanford. I'll definitely remember that! Definitely!"

"Or, you could just call me Ford," he pointed out awkwardly, his face sheepish at her directness.

"You got it, Dad!" She made a clicking noise as she directed her middle and index fingers at him, face wry and witty, and so much reminding him of something he didn't want to recall...

"Th-that's not..." his sentence left him and he rubbed his temples, amused but baffled all at the same time. "...never mind."

"Okay!" she sang, turning on her heels and looking out to the desert cheerfully.

Stanford was silent for a few seconds, before he pondered aloud, "But... I do need a name for you..."

"What about the Super Amazing Fantabulous Party Girl? It sounds mega cool!" she announced, turning her head slightly. Her beaming face made it almost hard for him to give a response.

"Perhaps... something shorter, more personal, less generic," he listed, smiling sheepishly.

"Awwwwww! Okay then..." the girl pouted, her slung bag swishing as she turned in another direction.

At this, he blinked, gaze lost in space and seemingly on the verge of realization.

"...what about something more... personal?"

"Personal? But I don't even know me! How can I personal with the me?! How can YOU personal with the me?!" she asked, turning around with her hands gesturing outwards in exasperation.

"Well, your clothing clearly shows some aspect of character... and something else, too," he murmured.

"Something else?" She tilted her head.

He hesitated, briefly. Was she aware she had this ability? If he had told her, would it put pressure on her? He dread to think of that - she seemed such a free spirit...

"I'll tell you later," he decided.

"But I'm impatient now!" she huffed.

"Star. I was thinking Star."

" _Star?_ What kinda name is Star?" she asked, staring at him with a face of misunderstanding. She paused, then looked to the side. She felt something - she felt something familiar, about that word. It meant something to her, and so she decided that she would cling to it. "...y'know what, I like it! It's shiny and new, just like you!" She grinned.

"Shiny and new?" Ford asked, clueless, his hand settling in his pocket. "At least we've settled on something..."

He then pulled out what appeared to be a map from his pocket, opening its crinkled material and immediately attracting the attention of Star who was fascinated by its age.

"Ooooh, old ruin vibe!" she gasped.

"Now, then - there's a town south of here. If we try there, we could perhaps find someone who knows you," the man plotted, glancing at her for approval. "Sound good?"

But Star was still in awe of the crumbling corner of the paper.

"Star?"

"...huh? Oh, yeah, yeah! But will there be comfy bean bags? That's the BETTER question!"

Ford found this question so out of the blue, but everything was out of the blue with Star and he presumed he'd never understand why.

"Maybe?" he responded, not entirely confident there would be. This planet was desolate, sadly not having the privilege of comfy items.

"That's all I need!" she muttered sternly, eyebrows narrowed and serious. She started heading in a certain direction. "To desert and beyond!"

"...Star... that's the wrong way."

"I knew that! I was teeeeeeesting you!" Star hummed, twirling around and heading in the correct direction.

Pocketing his map, Ford couldn't help but wonder whether or not he'd hauled more responsibility on himself than he could handle.

But unbeknownst to them, buried in the debris of the world, was an object far more powerful than any responsibility, almost any weapon. The fraction of itself it had lost made no difference, nor did the fact that it was corrupt. The key to Star's past had been right there, but she'd failed to pick it up - failed to unlock the door to her life.

And perhaps that would be something she would regret.


End file.
